Missed (Newtmas) Opportunities
by MiaGhost
Summary: Just a collection of little re-writes throughout the series. They're not overly sequenced, just moments where i felt i could wiggle a little more Newtmas in. James Dashner is a god.
1. Teresa Threatens Newt

Teresa finds Thomas hiding by the Deadheads and she threatens Newt. End of Chapter 36.

* * *

Teresa stood up, surprising Thomas with her confidence.

"Guess he forgot to tell the little part about me kicking him in the groin and climbing out the window."

Thomas almost laughed as Newt turned to an older boy standing nearby, whose face had turned bright red.

"Congrats, Jeff," Newt said. "You're officially the first guy here to get your butt beat by a girl."

Teresa didn't stop.

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next."

Her words were a low growl. Thomas didn't even realise he was on his feet until he opened his mouth to speak and found himself almost nose to nose with her.

"No way."

Teresa blinked at him in surprise, and then he face changed as different emotions flashed across her features.

"What? _Tom_ , we…"

She trailed off as he began shaking his head, glancing around at the Gladers behind him. Alby still looked furious and Jeff embarrassed, but Newt simply stared at him. His face showed anything but fear. Thomas met his eye, wondering what was going through the older boy's head. He looked back around at Teresa somehow knowing his stance, planted squarely in front of Newt, would be clear to her.

She looked almost hurt, and confused.

"Tom, we're in this together."

Thomas met her startlingly blue eyes evenly and shook his head again. She frowned, eyes flashing.

"I'm in this with _them_ , Teresa. Newt and Minho and Chuck, and the others. If you're in this with me, you're not threatening my friends."

Her eyes were dark and thoughtful and Thomas couldn't read them properly, but she did step back.

"Fair enough." she said shortly.

She went back to leaning against the stone wall, crossing her arms over her chest. Her unreadable eyes flickered over the Gladers but she didn't say anything else.

Out loud, at least.

 _What was that?_

Thomas looked at her, and then to Newt. He concentrated hard on throwing the mental words in her direction.

 _Newt's just good, okay? Don't go turning him against us._

She looked back at Alby, her face almost a scowl.

Alby stepped up.

"I'm sick of this."

He pointed at Thomas's chest, almost tapping it.

Newt lifted his hands in a placating gesture.

"Alby, mate. Let's cut Tommy a little slack here-"

Alby rounded on him, glaring him down before turning back to Thomas.

"I wanna know who you are, who this shank girl is, and how you guys know each other."


	2. Teresa Knows Why

Thomas doesn't want Newt to know about their telepathic ability and Teresa knows why. End of Chapter 46.

* * *

Thomas started, for a brief moment worried that Newt could tell what was going on.

 _Don't talk in my head while Newt's around. I don't want him knowing about our… gift._

"Come and check this out," she said aloud, barely hiding the smirk that flashed across her face.

 _What, afraid he'll get jealous?_

Thomas frowned as he walked over to Teresa, eager to see what they'd come up with. The mental thing was still difficult but he tried.

 _That's funny. You must have been a comedian before they sent you up._

Teresa sniggered and held out the paper, eyebrows raised. Newt flicked a look between the two of them. Thomas could feel his face heating up.

"I'll get down on my knees and kiss your bloody feet if you can figure it out, but man Tommy are you two weird."

Thomas shot Teresa a look and she simply smirked again.

 _Oops. Too late._

Thomas took the paper from her and scanned it quickly, determined not to give her the satisfaction of a reply.

 _Maybe he'll do more than kiss your feet._

Thomas choked on his next breath, earning yet another odd look from Newt.

"No doubt this is right," Teresa said. "Just don't have a clue what it means."

 _I think you'll manage to work it out._

Thomas tried to ignore the obvious double meaning in her words as she shot him a smug look.


	3. I Felt I Really Knew You

Newt and Thomas eat their lunches by the west wall after Alby tried to claw his own throat out, and Newt wants Thomas to talk to him. Beginning of Chapter 28.

* * *

"I need you to open your mind. Be honest if anything - anything at all - seems familiar."

"Nothing-" Thomas started, but stopped.

So much hard happened since arriving, he'd almost forgotten how familiar the Glade had felt to him that first night, sleeping next to Chuck. How comfortable and _at home_ he'd felt. A far cry from the terror he should've experienced.

"I can see your wheels spinnin'," Newt said, quietly. "Talk."

Thomas hesitated, scared of the consequences of what he was about to say. But he was tired of keeping secrets.

"Well… I can't put my finger on anything specific." He glanced sideways at Newt. "Besides you."

Newt looked surprised, his brown eyes wide when he blinked at Thomas.

" _Me_?" He frowned at his feet, his brows settling into an expression that felt more familiar to Thomas than anything else he could name. He brought one hand absently to his mouth, thumb and forefinger on either side.

Thomas swallowed, worried he shouldn't have said anything. The last thing he needed was for Newt to be suspicious of him.

"I- I don't know _why_ , exactly. I mean it's like i remember you but i don't know how, like i forget in what context, you know?"

Thomas glanced back at the boy beside him. Newt was very quiet, and although it wasn't out of the ordinary for the older boy it set Thomas a little more on edge. Just when he was starting to panic, Newt looked up at him again.

"I reckon i know, yeah."

Thomas stared at him, he had not expected that. Newt let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as though he didn't quiet believe himself. He leaned back against the ivy on the wall.

"When we pulled you outta the Box, i coulda sworn i'd seen you before. In some vague, blurry way i felt like i really knew you. Just for a minute. Then it was away again, like a weird feeling."

He looked back at Thomas, his lips quirking in an almost amused smile.

"And ever since…" he looked away with a soft shrug, just a slight roll of his shoulders. "Well, i been tryin' to pin it down, but no luck."

Thomas watched him as Newt looked across the Glade at the activity and bustle of the other Gladers. The blonde boy wasn't all that much older than Thomas, he guessed, and yet he had an air about him that made him seem ancient. Thomas's last few days had been a jarring whirlwind of emotion and fear, and he was feeling more than a little wrung out by it.

And that was just a few days. Newt had been here so much longer. Thomas couldn't imagine the things that Newt had been through, and the idea made him feel sick. He felt a sudden and surprising urge to reach out for the other boy, and felt his face burn a little at the sensation as it grew in his chest.

"I wonder-" he was suddenly afraid to go on, but Newt looked at him again, cocking his head a little. "If we were friends. You know, _before_."

He felt stupid the instant he said it, hearing his own words out loud. To his surprise Newt grinned, and the expression sent a wave of something warm through his system.

"For once, Tommy, i'm almost certain you're right."

Thomas grinned too, feeling pleased and even a little happy, the best he'd felt since arriving from the Box. Newt reached out and squeezed his shoulder. They settled in to finish their lunches, a few moments of companionable silence making Thomas feel almost content. It was a welcome break from the fearful, confusing ways of the Glade.

"Anything else about the Glade strike ya as familiar?"

Thomas swallowed the last of his sandwich, looking across to the Gardens where the usual team were working. He could pick Zart out easily, his larger form looking out of place in a way that was almost comical.

He spoke slowly, carefully.

"I did feel almost like i'd been here before when i first got here."

He looked at Newt, hoping to see some sort of recognition in his eyes.

"Anyone else go through that?"

But Newt's face was blank. He simply rolled his eyes.

"Uh, no Tommy. Most of us spent a week klunkin' our pants and bawlin' our eyes out."


	4. Enigmatic Is Charismatic

Newt arrives to take Thomas to the Slammer, and his grin tells Thomas the world is okay. End of Chapter 29.

* * *

Thomas picked up his plate and took it to the counter.

"All i want is one normal day - one day to relax."

"Then your bloody wish is granted," said a voice from the kitchen door behind him.

Thomas turned to see Newt there, smiling. That grin sent a wave of reassurance through Thomas, as if he were finding out the world was okay again.

"Come on, ya buggin' jailbird," Newt said. "You can take it easy while you're hangin' in the Slammer. Let's go. Chucky'll bring ya some lunch at noon."

Thomas nodded and headed out the door, Newt leading the way. Suddenly a day in prison sounded excellent. A day to just sit and relax.

He followed Newt, drawing level with the older boy. As they walked across the Glade he watched the others at work, the peaceful atmosphere almost soothing.

"You realise some of the others don't think one day in there is enough for what i did." he said thoughtfully, more of a statement than a question.

Newt looked over at him. The sunlight filtered through the fringe of his hair and danced on his eyelashes. He smiled that smile again, and Thomas couldn't help but smile too.

"Oh, i know. Had to give ya somethin', you broke Rule Number One. But you saved two of our own, Tommy. I hardly think that a week in the Slammer would be a fittin' reward, do you?"

Thomas shook his head, looking down at his feet to try to hide the size of the grin on his face.

"Thanks."

Newt snorted, before casually bumping a fist to his shoulder.

"Try to keep in mind that it's a punishment, not a privilege."

Thomas glanced up in surprise at the touch, catching Newt's dark brown eyes on him. The older boy's gaze held a friendly humour that set a flicker of affection alight in Thomas's chest. He felt his face warm.

"I'll try to keep it in mind."

Newt chuckled, shaking his head.

"I don't know what to make of you, Tommy. You're just chock-full of surprises, ain't cha?"

Thomas spread his hands and shrugged, feeling emboldened by the other boy's mirth.

"What can i say. I'm told enigmatic is charismatic." he said with a cocky half-smirk.

Thomas jumped as Newt threw his head back, a loud laugh booming into the air as though startled from him. He turned his brown eyes on Thomas again and the younger boy felt an odd quiver run through his abdomen at the indecipherable look that lay within them.

"That it is, Tommy. That it is."

Thomas grinned, oddly pleased.

"Although around here, mysteries and unanswered questions are rife, and not too welcome." he glanced at Thomas before looking away, forwards. Thomas watched the side of his face as he spoke, "Best really just to come out and say whatever it is that's goin' on inside your head."

Thomas stumbled, almost tripping as he looked at Newt and his words sunk in. Could he possibly be referring to what Thomas thought he might? A flush of heat rose within him from his toes to his scalp and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice only wavering a little towards the end.

If Newt noticed, he didn't react. Instead he hummed the affirmative, still looking straight ahead of them. Thomas could feel his brain working as he looked down at the grass passing under his feet and thought over the other boy's words.

The Slammer stood in an obscure place between the Homestead and the north Glade wall, hidden behind thorny, ragged bushes that looked like they hadn't been trimmed in ages. It was a block of roughly cut concrete, with one tiny, barred window and a wooden door that was locked with a menacing rusty metal latch, like something out of the Dark Ages.

Newt took out a key and opened it up. He looked at Thomas then, and Thomas felt something within himself steel in determination. They were practically hidden from the Gladers where they stood, and he met Newt's brown-eyed look. The blonde simply looked back at him, his eyebrows slightly raised. Thomas licked his lip and looked away, into the Slammer.

"You know, i like you. I think you're about the nicest thing about this place." he said before he could chicken out, still looking into the dim room instead of at Newt. Newt hesitated, before his face split into a warm grin. Thomas couldn't help but look at him then.

"You know, i like you too Greenie. Dunno what it is about ya, but i like it just the same."

Thomas could feel his face growing warm and suspected he was blushing quite badly. Newt didn't mention it.

"About the enigmatic is charismatic thing… I- well. I'd like to think it worked on you."

That was the last of his bravery holding out, and he ducked through the doorway into the small room of the Slammer feeling much like an uncomfortable coward. His stomach was doing somersaults as he looked around the small space. There was nothing in the room but an ugly, rickety chair. He realised his heart was racing and swallowed.

Newt popped his head in the doorway, making Thomas jump. The blonde merely grinned, his brown eyes glinting.

"Tommy, i'd like to think you'd know it does."

And then he was gone, the door closed and the latch drawn across with a rasping snap of finality. Thomas stood blinking at the door, the space where Newt's face had just been seeming vastly empty.

He looked down at the lone piece of furniture. It was going to be an uncomfortable day. Mind you, it would be a whole day of pondering the blonde and his words, and the odd shivery feeling Thomas got in his abdomen every time the blonde looked at him, or smiled. Or called him _Tommy_.

A whole day of relaxing. A normal, lazy day just like he'd wanted.

Though something told him there was a better chance of Gally bringing him flowers than of passing a day in the Glade with nothing strange happening.


	5. Tommy, I'm Afraid

They await the Grievers, and Newt is terrified that first night, despite taking charge. End of Chapter 38.

* * *

Then everything changed.

A mechanised surge of machinery sounded from outside, followed by the familiar rolling clicks of a Griever on the stony ground, as if someone had scattered a handful of nails. Thomas shot to his feet, as did most of the others.

But Newt was up before anyone, waving his arms, then shushing the room by putting a finger to his lips. Favouring his bad leg, he tiptoed towards the lone window in the room, which was covered by three hastily nailed boards. Large cracks allowed for plenty of space to peek outside.

Carefully, Newt leaned in to take a look, and Thomas crept over to join him.

He crouched below Newt against the lowest of the wooden boards, pressing his eye against a crack. It was terrifying being so close to the wall.

He could feel Newt's shallow breaths curling over his hair, and despite the fear chilling him at the sounds of the Grievers, Thomas smiled faintly. He stared out of the crack between the boards, searching for the horrid creatures he knew were out there. Newt's hand found his shoulder nearest the wall, pressing tightly against his shirt. He twisted his head to look up, but Newt just continued to stare out of the window, his chest moving in small motions as he breathed. Thomas shifted and looked out again, straining to see anything.

But all he saw was the open Glade; he didn't have enough space to look up or down or to the side, just straight ahead. After a minute or so, he gave up and turned to sit with his back against the wall. After a moment's hesitation and a brief squeeze of his shoulder, Newt walked over and sat back down on the bed.

Thomas watched him silently, the other boys pressed against the far wall and stock still as though frozen in place. Newt had closed his eyes, his head falling back. His face was pale with fear. Thomas got to his feet and walked over, each step cautious and his heart racing at the thought that a Griever could be right outside the window.

When he reached the narrow cot bed he stopped. He looked down at his friend, and saw the dim light glinting on the wetness that was spreading from under Newt's lashes. He sat down beside him. He felt Newt shift, turn to look at him but he kept his eyes on the window. After a moment, Newt dropped his head forward. He could hear the message his friend was sending him as clearly as he ever had Teresa's voice.

 _Tommy, i'm afraid._

Thomas didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He knew the older boy's fear branched more from his sense of responsibility to the others than for himself. Even considering the depth of Newt's own terror when it came to the Maze. Thomas felt his chest tighten with admiration for his friend, and not for the first time.

The knowledge weighed heavy on Thomas like a black shroud, and he knew without question that he would always worry for Newt the way Newt did everyone else. Newt was always so strong for everyone. Thomas would be strong for him. He just pressed their shoulders together and gave Newt the time he needed to get himself back under control.

 _I know. It's okay_.

Eventually Newt's head came back up and he pushed his shoulder back against Thomas's. Not too hard, just a slight movement of pressure from one boy to the other. The two boys sat side by side like that as they awaited the monsters of the Maze.

A few minutes passed, various Griever sounds penetrating the walls every ten to twenty seconds. The squeal of small engines followed by a grinding spin of metal. The clicking of spikes against the hard stone. Things snapping and opening and snapping. Thomas winced in fear every time he heard something, each time feeling Newt tense beside him.


	6. Only An Arm's Length

The Griever is right outside the window, and Gally's going to get them _killed_. End of Chapter 39.

* * *

"No!" Newt yelled, running forward. Thomas followed to help, in utter disbelief at what was happening.

Gally ripped off the second board just as Newt reached him. He swung it backwards with both hands and connected with Newt's head, sent him sprawling across the bed as a small spray of blood sprinkled the sheets. Thomas pulled up short, readying himself for a fight. He forced himself not to look at his friend, afraid that if he did he'd get them into worse trouble.

"Gally!" Thomas yelled. "What're you _doing_?"

The boy spat on the ground, panting like a winded dog.

"You shut your shuck-face, _Thomas_. You shut up! I know who you are, but i don't care any more. I can only do what's right."

Thomas felt as if his feet were rooted to the ground. He was completely baffled by what Gally was saying, and a rising fear for Newt's safety was threatening to incapacitate him. He watched the boy reach back and rip loose the final wooden board. The instant the discarded slab hit the floor of the room, the glass of the window exploded inwards like a swarm of crystal wasps.

Thomas covered his face and fell to the floor, kicking his legs out to scoot his body as far away as possible. When he bumped into the bed, he gathered himself and looked up, ready to face his world coming to an end.

A Griever's pulsating, bulbous body had squirmed halfway through the destroyed window, metallic arms with pincers snapping and clawing in all directions. Thomas was so terrified, he barely registered that everyone else in the room had fled to the hallway - all except Newt, who lay unconscious on the bed.

Frozen, Thomas watched as one of the Griever's long arms reached for the lifeless body, stopping Thomas's heart on a pin's edge. That was all it took to break him from his fear. He scrambled to his feet, searched the floor around him for a weapon, heart beginning to pound painfully against his ribcage.

All he could see were knives - they couldn't help him now. Panic exploded within him, consumed him. He backed as far away as he could, the low wooden side of the cot cutting into the backs of his shins. He gasped for breath. It felt as if the air in the room was getting heavier, his lungs having to work twice as hard, three times. The Griever arm paused, rotating as though scrutinising him, watching him, analysing him. He shifted, making sure to keep his body a barrier between the awful metal threat and Newt. He swallowed around the panic in his throat.

"Newt-" he croaked out, his voice cracking in panic. The adrenaline rushing hard through his system was making him feel woozy, light-headed. He wavered a little, trying desperately to keep himself upright. There was a hard ache in his gut that begged him to look back at Newt, but he knew if he did it would be his undoing.

"Newt, _please_! Wake up, man! Wake up! You gotta- You gotta _get up NOW_!"

His face was wet. He couldn't feel the tears but he could feel that his cheeks were wet. He was on the cusp of hyperventilating. The Griever arm began to advance again, and his pulse kicked up another notch, his skin feeling tight all over. He was going to blow a fuse any minute.

His heart vibrated in his chest, fuelled by fear and the dark, cloying knowledge that the Griever was going to get them. He was fully prepared to hold it off, away from Newt but what good would that do if his friend didn't get out of the way _right shucking now_?

"Newt!" he sobbed, wanting desperately to see the boy he cared so deeply for, "Newt, if you're gonna move do it right now! Man _Move!"_

His voice was gone then, words a vague garbled sound in his throat as he felt them merge into a scream. He clamped his teeth together to shut it off, his eyes locked in a death-stare with the glinting metal arm that was heralding his demise.

Then Gally was speaking again; the Griever pulled back its arm, as if it needed the thing to be able to observe and listen. But its body kept churning, trying to squeeze its way inside. Thomas took a breath as though re-learning how.


	7. Don't Worry, Tommy

Newt calls Teresa Thomas's girlfriend, and Thomas aches to correct him. Beginning of Chapter 43.

* * *

"Tommy," Newt said in a consoling voice. "Minho's right. You shanks go out and get Runnin'. I'll round up some Gladers we can trust and get workin' on this."

Newt sounded more like a leader than ever before. Thomas felt the warmth of pride flush down his arms, his fingers.

"Me too." Teresa agreed. "I'll stay and help Newt."

Thomas looked at her.

"You sure?"

He was itching to figure out the code himself, but he decided Minho and Newt were right. She smiled and folded her arms.

"If you're going to decipher a hidden code from a complete set of different mazes, I'm pretty sure you need a girl's brain running the show."

Her grin turned into a smirk.

 _Besides, with you out of the way i have the opportunity to needle Newt about you. Clearly you're hanging onto a Griever-sized crush. Maybe he'll spill to me if you're not here..._

"If you say so."

He folded his own arms, staring at her with a smile despite the anxiety that her mental words had birthed in his gut, suddenly not wanting to leave again. Somehow he knew she'd know he was answering both threads of conversation.

"Good that." Minho nodded and turned to go. "Everything's fine and dandy. Come on."

He started towards the door, but stopped when he realised Thomas wasn't behind him. Thomas was looking at Newt, taking in the image of his friend, cross-legged and relaxed on the floor of the basement room, his expression relaxed despite the way the world as they knew it was dissolving.

"Don't worry, Tommy," Newt said. "Your girlfriend will be fine."

 _Oh, if he only knew…_

Thomas frowned at Teresa, her sapphire eyes twinkling mischievously.

 _Seriously, please shut up._

Her grin only widened. Newt looked between them with an odd look in his eye, an action that was rapidly becoming a frequent occurrence. Thomas huffed.

"She's _not_ \- You know what, never mind. Whatever." he forced a grin.

Newt looked at him, puzzled, before his half-smile quirked his lips in answer and Thomas almost forgot what was going on. Thomas felt a million thoughts go through his head in that moment. An itch to learn the code, embarrassment at what Newt thought of him and Teresa, a longing ache to just _confess_ , the intrigue of what they might find out in the Maze - and fear.

But he pushed it all aside. Without even saying goodbye, he finally followed Minho and they went up the stairs.


	8. Let Go!

They've made it to the Griever Hole, and Thomas's heart is breaking as he watches Newt cry out for Alby. End of Chapter 55.

* * *

Thomas was in no mood for whining - they had to _do_ something.

"Well, we'd be no better off in theHomestead. Hate to say it, but if one of us dies, that's better than all of us."

He really hoped the one-person-a-night thing was true now. Seeing all these Grievers close up hit home with an explosion of reality - could they really fight them all?

A long moment passed before Alby replied.

"Maybe i should…"

He trailed off and started walking forward - in the direction of the Cliff - slowly, as if in a trance. Thomas watched in detached awe - he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Alby?" Newt said. "Get back here!"

Instead of responding, Alby took off running - he headed straight for the pack of Grievers between him and the Cliff.

"Alby!" Newt screamed.

Thomas started to say something himself, but Alby had already made it to the monsters and jumped on top of one. Newt moved away from Thomas's side and towards Alby - but five or six Grievers had already burst to life and attacked the boy in a blur of metal and skin. Thomas reached out and grabbed Newt by the arms before he could go any farther, then pulled him backwards.

The sheer horror that washed through him at the thought of that happening to Newt - _his Newt_ \- snapped him out of his trance and grounded him. He dug his fingers into the older boy to make sure he didn't break free.

"Let go!" Newt yelled. struggling to break loose.

"Are you nuts?" Thomas shouted. "There's nothing you can do!"

Two more Grievers broke from the pack and swarmed over Alby, piling on top of each other, snapping and cutting at the boy, as if they wanted to rub it in, show their vicious cruelty. Somehow, impossibly, Alby didn't scream. Thomas lost sight of the body as he struggled with Newt, thankful for the distraction.

" _Thomas!_ I have to-"

Thomas closed his eyes against the way Newt's face was twisting, something akin to madness warping his features. His heart hiccuped at the sound of his full name on Newt's tongue. It felt all wrong. He moved with the blonde as he threw himself sideways in an attempt to dislodge Thomas's hold.

"Newt _please!_ We can't help him now!"

The blonde gave a garbled cry, something in-between a sob and a scream. Thomas felt his heart breaking but he held on, knowing in that moment that Newt hated him for what he was doing.

Newt finally gave up, collapsing backwards in defeat.

Alby had flipped once and for all, Thomas thought, fighting the urge to rid his stomach of its contents. Their leader had been so scared to go back to whatever he'd seen, he'd chosen to sacrifice himself instead. He was gone. Totally gone.

Thomas helped steady Newt on his feet; the Glader couldn't stop staring at the spot where his friend had disappeared. His long fingers clutched at Thomas's hand on his arm, and his breathing was shaky and unsteady.

"I can't believe it," Newt whispered. "I can't believe he just did that."

Thomas shook his head, for a moment unable to reply. Seeing Alby go down like that… a new kind of pain he'd never felt before filled his insides - an ill, disturbed pain; it felt worse than the physical kind. And he didn't even know if it had anything to do with Alby - he'd never much liked the guy. But the thought that what he'd just seen might happen to Chuck - or Teresa…

He looked at Newt's familiar face. He couldn't even allow the idea that he might lose Newt to enter his head. The frozen, frightened look on his friend's face made it heard to breathe. Newt's usually warm brown eyes were cold and filled with tears. Thomas tightened his hold on the blonde's arms, feeling wretched in the face of Newt's pain.

Thomas had never much liked Alby, but Newt had loved the guy like a brother. They'd been together in the Glade and protecting the other Gladers for so much longer than anything else any of them knew. Seeing Newt like this was breaking his heart and Thomas couldn't stop the awful feeling rising in his chest. He loved Newt, he knew he did, and watching him cry knowing he couldn't stop his pain was worse than anything Thomas could ever imagine feeling.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, knowing even as he said it that his words just weren't enough.

Newt choked out a sob and finally looked at him, his fingers clinging desperately to Thomas as he struggled to stay standing. He looked so broken that Thomas felt a deeper sort of fear filling him. Newt was so strong, so sure, a constant that they all relied on. He kept them hopeful, kept them together, kept them sane. He had never considered how they'd manage without the certainty of their second in command.

He watched as Newt's eyes returned to the spot where Alby had been taken from them for good, and he swallowed the want to cry. He couldn't, they didn't have _time_ to stop, no matter who went down - and that frightened him even more.

Minho moved closer to Thomas and Newt, squeezed Newt's shoulder.

"We can't waste what he did." He turned towards Thomas. "We'll fight 'em if we have to, make a path for you and Teresa. Get in the Hole and do your thing - we'll keep them off till you scream for us to follow."


	9. Make A Bloody Path

Minho and the others will fight for them and Thomas hates the thought of losing Newt. Beginning of Chapter 56.

* * *

Thomas grabbed Minho by the arm.

"Somehow i have to get through that!"

He nodded towards the rolling pack of Grievers between them and the Cliff - they looked like one big mass of rumbling, spiked blubber, glistening with flashes of lights off steel. They were even more menacing in the faded grey light.

Thomas waited for an answer as Minho and Newt exchanged a long glance. The anticipation of fighting was almost worse then the fear of it.

Newt looked at Thomas with brown eyes full of so many different emotions that Thomas wondered how the blonde could think straight. Thomas was reaching out his hand before he thought about it.

"Newt…"

Newt nodded, his eyes softening as Thomas's fingers brushed his arm. He reached up to cover Thomas's hand with his own, giving it a hard squeeze. He didn't say anything but Thomas could see it written on his face.

 _Be safe, Tommy. Get us out of here._

He nodded back and tried to ignore the swirling desperation in his stomach. They'd get through this. He'd get them out. He _had_ to.

"They're _coming_!" Teresa yelled. "We have to do something!"

"You lead," Newt finally said to Minho, his voice barely more than a whisper. He kept his eyes on Thomas as though he was scared what would happen if he looked away. "Make a bloody path for Tommy and the girl. Do it."

Minho nodded once, a steel look of resolve hardening his features. Then he turned towards the Gladers. Thomas heard Minho shouting but his eyes never left Newt.

"We head straight for the Cliff! Fight through the middle, push the shuckin' things towards the walls. What matters most is getting Thomas and Teresa to the Griever Hole!"

Thomas had to look away from Newt then, back at the approaching monsters - they were only a metre or so away. He gripped his poor excuse for a spear.

 _We have to stay close together_ , he told Teresa. _Let them do the fighting - we have to get through that Hole_.

He felt like a coward, but he knew that any fighting - and any deaths - would be in vain if they didn't get that code punched, get the door to the Creators opened.

 _I know,_ she replied. _Stick together_.

"Ready!" Minho yelled next to Thomas, raising his barbed-wire-wrapped club into the air with one hand, a long silver knife in the other. He pointed the knife at the horde of Grievers; a flash glinted off the blade. "Now!"

The Keeper ran forward without waiting for a response. Newt went after him without looking back, right on his heels and taking with him Thomas's heart and his fervent prayer for the blonde's safety.

Then the rest of the Gladers followed, a tight pack of roaring boys charging ahead to a bloody battle, weapons raised.


	10. You Did It, Tommy, You Did It

Thomas can't breathe when Newt doesn't come down the Griever Hole. Beginning of Chapter 58.

* * *

As if in answer to her question, someone fell through the black square - it was Minho, looking as if he'd been scratched or stabbed on ninety percent of his body.

"Minho!" Thomas shouted, filled with relief. "Are you okay? What about everybody else?"

Minho stumbled towards the curved wall of the tunnel, then leaned there, gulping big breaths.

"We lost a ton of people… it's a mess of blood up there… then they all just shut down."

He paused, taking in a really deep breath and letting it go in a rush of air.

"You did it. I can't believe it actually worked."

FryPan came through then, followed by Winston. Then the others. With each thud of feet hitting the concrete floor as a Glader slid through, Thomas's fear grew. Newt. Where the bloody hell was Newt?

Before long seventeen boys had joined Thomas and his friends in the tunnel, making a total of twenty Gladers in all. Each was was covered in Griever sludge and human blood, their clothes ripped to shreds. Newt was not among them. There was a long moment of emptiness that made Thomas's heart hammer harder than he'd ever thought possible as he stared at the black square, unable to breathe.

"And Newt?" he eventually managed to choke out, his fear-clogged throat strangling the words and cutting them off. Minho looked up at him, his eyes afraid.

"He was right there. I'm sure he was," he looked frantically to the last Gladers to come through, "wasn't he?"

Thomas felt like he was going to pass out from the way his heart was thumping, rushing adrenaline and devastation through his veins. Tears pricked his eyes and he finally gasped a breath, feeling his knees tremble beneath him.

"He must have- he can't have-"

Thomas felt his throat close, his heart fall. Their struggle seemed suddenly so pointless, so useless. If he hadn't kept Newt safe then he had failed. He had believed in Thomas and he had been wrong. Thomas swayed, the world starting to feel far away.

And then there was a muffled thump, and a second of pure silence before he appeared, his trainers hitting the ground hard and his bad leg making him stumble.

Thomas took a breath. Newt stood before him, covered like the others in goo and yellow oil and blood, his weapon clasped loosely in his hand. He blinked, looking dazed, but then his dark eyes flicked up and met Thomas's gaze full on.

And the last of Thomas's strength vanished.

He flew across the corridor, skidding on the mess on the floor as he threw his arms around the older boy, dragging him forward into a fierce embrace. Newt almost fell on top of him as he started in surprise before he wrapped his arms around Thomas, his weapon hitting the ground with a muffled clang.

Thomas's face was wet, the tears pouring down his cheeks without permission as he choked stuttering breaths into Newt's shoulder. The blonde only tightened his arms, his face pressing into Thomas's hair, his nose brushing the younger boy's neck as the two boys clung feverishly to each other.

"I- I thought- _Gods_ Newt! You- You- took so _shucking_ long i thought- I thought-"

Thomas's words were a messy jumble of hiccups and sobs, and Newt's breathing became just as difficult.

"I'm here. I made it. You did it, Tommy, you did it. You saved us from the Maze."

Thomas's sobs only grew in strength as the words hit home and Newt had to help him stand as his knees finally buckled.

"Half of us." he said, his voice weak. "Half of us dead."

Newt turned his face into his neck, his breath trembling against Thomas's ear.

"Tommy, you _saved_ half of us. You did. You saved Chuck, and Teresa and Minho, FryPan and the others." He drew back, tipping his face to force Thomas to meet his eye. Thomas looked up at him with a look that just about broke his heart. "You saved _me,_ Tommy. You promised me you would and you have."

"You know what?" Minho said, drawing their attention and that of the others who were staring at them, "Half might've died, but half of us shucking _lived_. And nobody got stung - just like Thomas thought. We've gotta get out of here."

 _Too many,_ Thomas thought, reluctantly drawing away from the security he felt in Newt's embrace. _Too many by far_. Within him rose a dark black bubble of mourning for the twenty people who'd lost their lives. Despite the alternative, despite knowing that if they hadn't tried to escape, _all_ of them might've died, it still hurt, even though he hadn't known them very well. Such a display of death - how could it be considered a victory?

Close beside him, a voice shook him enough from his stupor to pay attention to the here and now.

"Let's get out of here," Newt said, his body pressed against Thomas's, their sides touching and his hand snaking between their hips to grasp Thomas's in a tight hold. "Right now."

"Where do we go?" Minho asked, giving Thomas no time to consider the long fingers enclosed around his own, grounding him with their warm touch.

He pointed down the long tunnel.

"I heard the door open down that way."

He tried to push away the ache of it all - the horrors of the battle they'd just won. The losses. He pushed it all away, focusing on feeling Newt's hand in his, the way the blonde linked their fingers tightly, knowing they were nowhere near safe yet.

"Well - let's go." Minho answered. And the older boy turned and started walking up the tunnel without waiting for a response.

Newt nodded, ushering the other Gladers past him to follow. One by one they went until only he remained with Thomas and Teresa.

"I'll go last." Thomas said.

No one argued. Newt stood close at his side. Chuck went, then Teresa, into the black tunnel. Even the torches seemed to get swallowed by the darkness. Thomas and Newt followed, hands still firmly entwined, not even bothering to look back at the dead Grievers.


	11. Newt Holds Thomas Together

Thomas can't hold himself together as he clings to Chuck. Newt does it for him. End of Chapter 59.

* * *

And then he was being pulled away by Minho and Newt, his arms still flailing even when they only hit air. They dragged him across the floor; he fought them, squirmed, yelled to be left alone. His eyes remained on Gally, lying there, still; Thomas could feel the hatred pouring out, as if a visible line of flame connected them.

And then, just like that, it all vanished. There were only thoughts of Chuck.

He threw off Minho's and Newt's grip, ran to the limp, lifeless body of his friend. He grabbed him, pulled him back into his arms, ignoring the blood, ignoring the frozen look of death on the boy's face.

" _No!_ " Thomas shouted, sadness consuming him. " _No!_ "

Teresa was there, put her hand on his shoulder. He shook it away.

"I promised him!" he screamed, realising even as he did so that his voice was laced with something wrong. Almost insanity. "I promised I'd save him, take him home! I _promised_ him!"

Teresa didn't respond, only nodded, her eyes cast to the ground. Thomas felt himself dissolving into the pain, letting it consume him. He almost didn't notice when someone sat down beside him. He knew it was Newt, some part of him registered that it was him even while he cradled Chuck and felt himself begin to drown in the ache of it all.

When Newt's fingers found his arm, when his other arm slid around Thomas's back and squeezed, he didn't shake him off. Newt would know. Newt would understand, Thomas knew Newt would feel it just like he did. The heartache, the awfulness.

Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezed him as tightly as possible, as if that could somehow bring him back, or show thanks for saving his life, for being his friend when no one else would. He was aware of Newt pressing close to him, holding him together as if he knew it was exactly what he needed. Newt always knew, Newt had always known. He'd seen it before Thomas, he must have. The bond that Thomas had with Chuck, the way he loved the kid and hadn't realised until they'd had to jump into the Griever Hole. _Too late_.

And Chuck had been so brave, had tried to act so brave in front of them. He had only wanted Thomas to be proud of him, to respect him. He had only wanted to be one of them. He just wanted to be treated as more than a child.

Newt's forehead pressed into Thomas's shoulder as Thomas cried, wept like he'd never wept before. He was swept away on the feeling, the utter sorrow, the guilt and the loss consuming him. He fell into the tears, Newt's touch the only thing holding him back from falling apart completely. His great, wracking sobs echoed through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain.


	12. Headed Out Together

They're bundled onto the bus and Thomas passes up a seat beside Teresa to sit with Newt. End of Chapter 60.

* * *

When the man was several metres from the bus, he tossed the woman to the ground.

"Stay put or i'll shoot you dead!" he yelled at her; then he turned to Thomas. "Get on the bus!"

Thomas, so terrified by the ordeal that his body shook, turned and followed Teresa up the stairs and into the aisle of the bus. Wide eyes watched him as they walked all the way to the back seat, but as Teresa plopped down Thomas's eyes strayed to the blonde mop of hair peeking over the seat two rows in front of her. With an absent, apologetic glance at her startling blue eyes Thomas turned back, sliding into the seat next to the lonely-looking blonde.

Newt turned to look at him. He had an elbow on the windowsill, his face propped on the knuckles of his hand. His brown eyes were heavy with everything that Thomas was feeling, and he knew Newt understood. Black water washed down the windows outside. The rain drummed on the roof, heavy; thunder shook the skies above them.

 _What_ was _that?_ Teresa said in his mind.

Thomas couldn't answer, just twisted to look back at her. She frowned, looking a little hurt, but she didn't say anything else, turning to look out of the window. Thomas thought she looked a little lonely too, but he couldn't consider leaving Newt on his own. Thoughts of Chuck flooded him again, replacing the crazy woman, deadening his heart. He just didn't care, didn't feel any relief at escaping the Maze. _Chuck_ …

He sighed, tipping his head back against the headrest, his eyes closing. Newt shifted beside him, leaning away from the window and against Thomas, his presence warm and comforting as the bus rumbled beneath them.

"I promised him." he whispered, and even to his own ears the words didn't come close to expressing the guilt he felt.

Newt moved, his elbow and shoulder brushing against Thomas, bumping him almost painfully as the blonde twisted. When he settled against Thomas again he warmed the other boy's side from hip to shoulder and Thomas moved his arm around Newt's skinny shoulders. There was a long moment of silence between them, the noise of muted chatter floating from the rest of the boys on the bus.

Eventually Newt sighed. Thomas cracked his eyes open to look down at his face where it rested against his shoulder. Newt's dark eyes were fixed on the seatback in front of them, and the frown on his face was as familiar to Thomas as the warmth the sight of the blonde always filled him with.

"He loved you."

Thomas was surprised by the sudden force of the tears in his eyes. His breath hitched and he blinked, looking up at the scuffed, dusty ceiling of the bus. They'd done it, they'd escaped and even though he didn't know where they were going they were never going back.

But he couldn't feel any relief, any joy. He couldn't feel _anything_ besides the crushing ache of loss in his heart. He swallowed thickly.

"I- I-"

He couldn't finish without letting the tears fall and he was determined not to cry when everyone could see. Newt tucked his face into his shoulder, his cheek brushing against the spot where Thomas's heart lay.

"I know." Of course he did. Thomas would bet the blonde knew before any of them how much Thomas had cared for the kid. "He knew too, y'know."

Thomas swallowed the sob, his chest trembling with the restraint. He clenched his hands, closing his eyes as he felt the tell-tale burning in his throat. Newt wriggled closer, if such a thing were possible, and he raised a hand to brush the cool skin of his palm over Thomas's flushed cheek.

"He'd be proud, Tommy. He did what he did because he knew we need you."

Thomas laughed humourlessly.

"You don't need me. You and Minho take care of everybody. All i do is get people killed."

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as his voice broke. Newt drew back and Thomas mourned the warmth on his shoulder.

"You listen to me Tommy, and you listen good. You got us outta there. Everybody on this bus, _you_ got out. Minho, Teresa, Me. We dunno where we're headed but we're headed out together. We need you just the same as we did then, maybe more. It only works if we have each other, remember?"

Newt's face was grim and serious and Thomas nodded, feeling the weight of his words landing on his skin. Newt seemed satisfied with that.

"And besides," his lips quirked in an almost shy smile and he looked away. He settled against Thomas's shoulder again, letting the younger boy draw him close. "Bein' free of the buggin' Maze likely means i'll have more time to chase your shuck arse around and make sure you don't cause any more bloody trouble."

Thomas didn't know how he'd done it but Newt had made him feel better. The pain for Chuck lingered in his chest but it wasn't as overwhelming as it had been. It took a little effort but he smiled, resting his chin atop the matted blonde curls, heedless of the drying mess left by their battle with the Grievers. Newt's hair was clumped together in places where the blonde had run his hands through the tacky strands, but Thomas barely noticed.

"I look forward to it." he murmured, feeling a sudden drowsy sort of peace washing over him. Newt chuckled softly in response. The fingers of his left hand had found a fold in Thomas's top just above his stomach and they gripped the fabric lightly, the way a child does a favourite blanket. Thomas smiled as he closed his eyes, the rumbling bumping of the bus lulling, almost soothing in its own way.

Thomas wondered vaguely if he had travelled in vehicles like it often, before his memory was erased. Newt was a warm and welcome pressure against his side as he relaxed into the feeling.

Wherever they were going, at least they were going together.


	13. Yeah, I Reckon I Know

Newt's bunk is close enough that Thomas could reach out and touch him. It just isn't enough. End of Chapter 62.

* * *

As Thomas was settling into the soft mattress for the night, he was interrupted.

"Hey, Thomas." Minho said from above him.

"Yeah?" Thomas was so tired the word barely came out.

"What do you think happened to the Gladers who stayed behind?"

Thomas hadn't thought about it. His mind had been occupied with Chuck, and now Teresa.

"I don't know. But based on how many of us died getting here, I wouldn't like to be one of them right now. Grievers are probably swarming all over them."

He couldn't believe how nonchalant his voice sounded as he said it.

"You think we're safe with these people?" He'd thought Newt asleep, he'd been so quiet. But the blonde's words were clear, un-slurred by sleep.

"Yeah," joined Minho, "are we?"

Thomas pondered the question for a moment. There was only one answer to hold onto.

"Yeah, i think we're safe."

Minho said something else, but Thomas didn't hear. Exhaustion consuming him, his mind wandered to his short time in the Maze, his time as a Runner and how much he'd wanted it - ever since that first night in the Glade. It felt like a hundred years ago. Like a dream.

Murmurs of conversation floated through the room, but to Thomas they seemed to come from another world. He stared at the crossed wooden boards of the bed above him, feeling the pull of sleep. But, wanting to talk to Teresa, he fought it off.

 _How's your room? Wish you were in here._

 _Oh yeah?_ she replied, _With all those stinky boys? Think not._

 _Guess you're right. I think Minho's farted three times in the last minute._

He knew it was a lame attempt at a joke, but it was the best he could do. He sensed her laughing, wished he could do the same. There was a long pause.

 _I'm really sorry about Chuck._ she finally said.

Thomas felt a sharp pang and closed his eyes as he sank deeper into the misery of the night.

 _He could be so annoying,_ he said.

He paused, thought of that night when Chuck had scared the crap out of Gally in the bathroom.

 _But it hurts. Feels like i lost a brother._

 _I know._

 _I promised-_

 _Stop, Tom._

 _What?_

He wanted Teresa to make him feel better, say something magic to make the pain go away.

 _Stop with the promise stuff. Half of us made it. We all would've died if we'd stayed in the Maze._

 _But Chuck didn't make it._ Thomas said.

Guilt racked him because he knew for a certainty he would trade any one of the Gladers in that room for Chuck.

 _He died saving you._ Teresa said, just as the lights went out. _He made the choice himself. Just don't ever waste it._

Thomas felt tears swell under his eyelids; one escaped and trickled down his right temple, into his hair. He felt her words sinking into him, branding like a mark across his brain. He swallowed the choked sob that was trying to wrestle free, glad the others couldn't see and wishing the dark masked the sound.

There was almost a full minute of silence before he heard rustling from Newt's bunk as the boy turned over. When they'd first gone to bed Thomas had noticed how close together their bunks were compared to the others around the room. Minho and himself, FryPan and Newt had ended up in two sets of bunks that were almost touching. If he raised his arm and reached his hand back behind his pillow he would be able to touch Newt's face, his hair. The thought only amplified the horror in his stomach.

He'd lost Chuck that night, and could easily have lost Newt too. He wasn't sure how he could possibly go on with that knowledge in his head every day. That single moment at the Griever Hole had been awful enough, and it had only been a moment. The rustling continued as he tried to silence his cries, but the flow of tears just wouldn't quit. He turned away from the room, biting down on his bottom lip as hard as he could, struggling to turn each sob into a breath, his chest burning with the effort and the lump in his throat growing so wide he struggled to swallow.

The rustling turned to a slide of fabric on fabric and then stopped. Before Thomas could feel any relief that Newt seemed to have succumbed to sleep there was a dip in his mattress and a long-fingered hand brushed over his mouth, stilling his surprise. Lips brushed his ear. A breathy, familiar voice calmed him.

"Budge up, Tommy. It's freezin' out here."

Thomas did, shuffling until he was almost flush with the wall, surprise stilling his tongue. He opened his eyes, even though in the dark it wasn't much different. He didn't dare turn around as he felt a body slip under his covers, a gentle and soothing heat seeping from him. Thomas could feel the panic and awfulness in his stomach lesson, the lump in his throat shrinking. He dragged in a gulping breath and Newt removed his fingers, skimming them down his neck to rest gently on his shoulder. He turned his head.

In the darkness he could just make out the other boy's profile. Newt was lying on his back, staring up at the underside of Minho's bunk, his chest rising and falling pleasantly. He turned a little to look at Thomas, what was visible of his eyes filled with compassion and an understanding that crippled the younger boy. Thomas swallowed, reaching up to wipe tears from his cheeks. He could feel his face heat up.

" _Sorry_." he whispered, as close to silent as he could. His voice still cracked. Newt just continued to look at him. Thomas could see that familiar frown appear between the eyes he knew to be the dark mahogany brown he'd grown to love. Ever so gently, Newt shook his head.

"Don't you apologise, Tommy, not for _anything_ , d'you hear?"

Thomas closed his eyes, images of Chuck smiling and laughing swirling behind his eyelids, only to be replaced by the look of sheer terror he'd given him in the Maze, right before they'd jumped. Fresh tears burned hot trails down his face and he felt the shame and guilt flaring painfully in his gut. Newt whispered harshly to him. The room's other occupants were blissfully silent, and Thomas held out an irrational hope that they were all asleep already.

"I mean it, Greenie. You saved us. We all followed ya, we didn't have to but we _did_. You are not responsible for what those bastards put us through, for what they did to Alby, to Gally and the others. Look at me, Tommy."

Thomas forced his eyes open, the confidence in Newt's fierce whispering a small flicker of cool hope amongst the roiling fire consuming his insides. Newt looked at him with a determination that only made Thomas love him more.

"You are not responsible for what happened to Chuck, understand? It _wasn't your fault_. Don't ya bloody dare believe that, because if ya do then _they've won_. Don't you dare let them, not after every shucking thing we've been through."

He squeezed Thomas's shoulder hard enough to leave bruises, Newt's fingerprints on his skin. Thomas opened his eyes without knowing when he'd closed them again.

"Tommy? Promise me you'll try not to. _Promise_ me."

He caved, nodding his head as a sob finally escaped. Newt drew him close, their bodies aligning as the older boy tugged him into a fierce and unforgiving embrace. He finally broke, sobbing into Newt's shoulder, his chest heaving with the torture of it. Chuck was never coming back, and Thomas could feel his heart breaking all over again, the terror and awfulness a bitter sharp taste rising up his throat and releasing into the darkness as tortured moans. All the while Newt was holding him together as he let it all out, a rushing outpour that drained him, emptied him of everything.

He felt numb as he choked out the last cry, his breathing ragged and hitching as he began to fall back under control, still clinging tightly to Newt, his lifeline to sanity.

Eventually he grew still, trembling in Newt's arms as the exhausting coldness washed over him. He shivered and Newt shifted closer, tangling them together in a way that comforted Thomas, soothing the discomfort that swam in his blood.

"Newt-" he croaked, his throat dry and voice devastated.

Newt only nodded, tucking his head in the curve of Thomas's throat, one arm slipping around Thomas's shoulders and the other thrown across his waist.

" _Thank you_." he whispered.

Newt didn't move, but he flicked his eyes upwards to meet Thomas's in the dark and they looked at each other. For a moment that's all they did. Thomas simply breathed and watched Newt and Newt just watched him right back.

And then Newt smiled. An expression so gentle and fragile that Thomas felt his heart miss its next beat.

"Thank you for everything, for all of it. I- I never seemed to find the chance to say so before-"

Bizarrely, Newt let out a soft and gentle chuckle against the exposed skin of Thomas's neck. Thomas decided then and there that there was no better sensation in the world that Newt's laugh against his skin.

"So many words, Greenie. If it's not questions it's complaints and if it's not that then it's saying the things that don't need to be said."

His eyes gleamed in the dark nonetheless. Thomas was sure he was blushing fiercely, his face hot. But maybe that was just from crying. He rolled his eyes at the older boy, curling his fingers bravely in the other's blonde curls, turning his face a little towards him. They settled into a comfortable silence, and Thomas felt the pull of sleep return to settle its heavy hold into each of his exhausted limbs. He was pleasantly relaxed when Newt's whispers surprised him again.

"I always knew there was something odd about you. Even before you ran head-first into the buggin' Maze that night like a bloody shuckface."

Thomas could hear the grin, and it made his chest warm.

"I'll take that as a compliment." he returned, loving the way that Newt sniggered into his neck.

"About what you said before, about us being friends _before_ , well… I think you were right. I dunno what it is but i feel it, and i'm almost sure you know."

Thomas looked down at him through sleep-bleared eyes but Newt didn't look up. Instead he curled further against Thomas. Thomas waited, but that seemed to be the end of what his friend had to say, and Thomas settled further into the mattress to sleep, turning his face into Newt's temple and placing a soft kiss against his hair before he'd realised what he was doing. He froze, awaiting Newt's outburst, but the blonde simply hummed pleasantly and returned it with a breathy press of lips to Thomas's shoulder. Even through the fabric he could feel the warmth of his touch. He shivered.

Newt looked up at him then, and Thomas strained in the darkness to make out the look in his dark eyes, his stomach swooping as he looked back. His tongue felt heavy as he spoke, his voice dry. He realised his hands were shaking as he ran one through Newt's hair. The magnitude of the moment weighed heavy on him, making sure he picked out just the right words. Newt's words.

"Yeah," he croaked out, his eyes never leaving Newt's, "I reckon i know."

Newt moved faster than Thomas could have anticipated, his mouth crashing into Thomas's with a fierceness that made Thomas dizzy. Newt's lips sealed against his own almost harshly, moving against him, pressing into his flesh.

The feeling was glorious.

The way he'd felt in the Glade that first night was nothing compared to the searing _rightness_ he felt in that moment. As Newt kissed him he kissed back just as feverishly, and the pair clung to each other like they were back in the Maze and could be torn apart any second.

Kissing Newt, the feeling of the older boy's mouth moving so gorgeously against his own, was like coming _home_.

He ran the hand in Newt's hair soothingly through the locks, eliciting minute, breathy sounds that made Thomas's heart pound so hard in his chest that the blood rushing in his ears sounded like the Doors closing. He kissed Newt ferociously, capturing the blonde's lips in forceful sweeps, trying to say what his words couldn't. Newt retaliated just as brutally, his sharp breaths against Thomas's face making him tremble.

It was perfection, equal parts fierce and tender and filled with such emotion that Thomas could feel old memories tugging at his consciousness; darkened corridors and stolen, breathy kisses that turned him to pliable mush. He gasped as one struck him full force, a painfully young-looking Newt sprawled across a pale sofa in soft green pyjamas, the colour vivid and warm against his skin, his eyes glowing amber under the halo of blonde hair that curled around his ears and floated over his eyes. He remembered the feeling of skin on skin as Newt drew him close with a lopsided half-smile that took his breath away. He remembered the feeling of a trail of butterfly kisses dancing from his fingertips to his cheek. He remembered whispered declarations in the darkness of night. The wave of memory rolled over him, drowning him in the most beautiful way.

" _Tommy_ -"

Newt's strained, broken whisper made him groan as he pulled back, the nickname sweet and special between them in the night. His breathing was laboured, the heat of Newt's mouth still buzzing on his lips. His head was swimming. He drew a breath.

" _Newt_ \- there's- i _remember_ -"

Newt cut him off with another kiss, this one so slow and heartfelt that Thomas could feel his eyes pricking with tears as they fluttered closed. His heart swelled, his skin tingling all over as he melted under Newt's gentle touch. If there was such a thing as Paradise, this was it. It was over before he was ready, Newt's mouth staying close and his breaths puffs of sweet air against Thomas's skin. Thomas's fingers clutched the back of Newt's shirt. Newt touched his nose to Thomas's jaw, running the gentle touch up to meet Thomas's nose, their eyes locking.

" _I know._ " he whispered back.

Thomas swallowed and looked at Newt's face. He could feel words bubbling up inside, a wash of a warm and buoyant feeling that he somehow knew he had never expected to feel again after-

He frowned as clouded sensations and snatches of memory gathered in his brain. They'd put Newt in the Maze. He'd _watched_ every day for three years as Newt fought for survival. He could feel the dread again, the cold terror he'd lived in for three years, anticipating the worst and wishing as hard as anything against it. How could he have _forgotten_ that?

"You- They… _Three years_. You were a Runner, you- I-"

Newt's cheek pressed against his as the other boy pulled him closer, sealing their bodies together, tangled in the best way.

"Tomorrow, Tommy, Tomorrow. Not now, okay? Not now."

He pressed a soft kiss to Thomas's ear, his touch dancing down Thomas's arm, their fingers curling together. The brunette swallowed, nodded, tried to shake the lingering, dreadful feeling. Now was not the time for more awfulness. Now was a good moment, and he couldn't ruin it.

The warm bubble of emotion from before returned in force and he looked over at Newt, seeing the sentiment returned in his eyes. He opened his mouth but Newt shook his head, stopping him with another kiss.

Thomas was growing to realise that he'd do absolutely anything for the feeling Newt's kisses gave him.

The blonde drew back, and smiled the blazing smile that Thomas loved so much.

"Again with the words that don't need to be said, Greenie."

His eyes shone with humour and Thomas felt himself loose a breathy laugh, a surprising feeling after everything they'd been through that day. He stretched to Newt and kissed him softly once more before settling down again, the blonde's weight a warm comfort that Thomas could feel unraveling the tension in every muscle. Thomas relaxed into the embrace again, feeling himself drift off into sleep. The words would go unsaid tonight, but he was sure they'd return.

As he fell over the edge into sleep he felt Newt's lips press a gentle kiss into the skin of his shoulder.

If any of the other Gladers thought it strange that Newt awoke in Thomas's bunk, or if they had seen or heard any of what had transpired since lights out, nobody said anything.


	14. A NOTE

THIS ISN'T A CHAPTER, SO SO SORRY!

So hey guys! That's pretty much me for the Maze Runner. There were other brief little bits here and there where i probably could've written a Newtmas moment between incidents but i tried to stick to ones where i could slot it into the original text.

Plus, you have to leave space for a little imagination, no?

I've had people from both my FanFiction and AO3 accounts asking whether i'll continue with The Scorch Trials and The Death Cure, and i can answer that i've had way too much fun not to, so YES I WILL. This will of course mean that the risk of SPOILERS is going to rise considerably as my collection of Newtmas Moments progress, so PLEASE consider this a disclaimer of sorts.

THIS IS A DOUBLE-BARRELLED SPOILER/FEELS WARNING.

I WILL be continuing.

I WILL stick to the same pattern.

THIS MEANS I WILL DO ALL OF THE SCORCH TRIALS FIRST AND THEN MOVE ON to The Death Cure.

I WILL post another warning like this when i'm finished with The Scorch Trials.

I WILL NOT skip parts of the books where there are SPOILERS.

I WILL USE SPOILERS.

PLEASE don't read on if you haven't read the books or don't want SPOILERS.

For those of you who won't be continuing to read, i hope you've enjoyed Missed Opportunites so far, and thank you to all who have read/commented/reviewed/left Kudos.

You guys are awesome.

Well, here's to The Maze, and onwards to The Scorch!

As always, James Dashner is a God.


	15. Right Here

Thomas wakes to find things are going crazy and Newt's touch is reassuring. Chapter 3.

"Have any of them gotten in yet?" he asked, a strange calm washing over him. "Do all the windows have these bars?"

Minho nodded towards one of the many lining the walls of the long rectangular room.

"Yeah. It was too dark to notice them last night, especially with those stupid frilly curtains. But i'm sure glad for 'em."

Thomas looked at the other Gladers around them, some running from window to window to get a look outside, others huddling in small groups. Everyone had a look of half disbelief, half terror. He felt himself finally start to become fully awake, and a sudden and forceful shock rocketed through his system.

"Where's Newt?"

"Right here."

The accented voice washed sweetly over him. Thomas turned to see the older boy, not knowing how he'd missed him. Newt was tousle-haired and looked incredibly young in the pale blue clothing their rescuers had given them. _Right here_. He could only hope that those words would always be true. Thomas reached out automatically, catching himself when his hand was half-way to Newt. They weren't alone. The others…

Newt's brown eyes met his and the blonde's lips quirked in a gentle half-smile that calmed Thomas down again. He shifted his footing a little so he stood closer. Surprising Thomas, he reached out the short distance, enclosing their fingers together and squeezing.

"What's goin' on?"

"You think i have a bloody clue? Bunch of crazies want to eat us for breakfast, by the looks of it. We need to find another room, have a Gathering. All this noise is driving nails through my buggin' skull."

They turned back to Minho, and his blue eyes flicked down the length of their arms to where their joined hands hid, enclosed between their hips, before his gaze returned to Newt. He didn't say anything, but he didn't seem surprised.

Thomas nodded absently; he agreed with the plan but hoped Newt and Minho would take care of it. He was eager to make contact with Teresa.


	16. In Trouble Again

Aris has to tell them what's going on, and Thomas is admiring Newt taking charge. Chapter 5.

* * *

Just as Newt had ordered, the top beds had been unhooked from the lower ones and placed around the room against the walls, creating enough space for the nineteen other Gladers and Aris to sit in a circle, everyone facing each other. Thomas almost wanted to smile. Newt was a born leader, a sensible decision-maker. Thomas's head was too full of confusion and fear to even think about things like that and yet Newt solved the problem so naturally.

When Minho saw Thomas, he patted an empty spot next to him.

"Told ya, dude. Have a seat and let's talk. We waited on you. But close that shuck door as much as you can first - smells worse than Gally's rotting feet out there."

Without responding, Thomas pulled the door shut, then walked over and sat down. He wanted to sink his head into his hands, but he didn't. Nothing indicated for sure that any kind of danger threatened Teresa. Something weird was going on, but there could be a million explanations, and plenty of them included her being okay.

Newt was one bed to the right, and he shuffled closer to the end as Thomas sat down, looking like he was just getting more comfortable, but his eyes raised to meet Thomas's and they told him he wanted to be closer to Thomas just like Thomas wanted to be closer to him. They were in trouble again, safety had been ripped violently away again and Thomas's feelings for the blonde only made it harder to not dissolve into the fear. He'd thought Newt safe, and now…

He forced a small, pained smile, casually reaching out his hand to touch Newt's knee where it rested beside him. Newt flashed him a brief smile before it faded. He jostled his knee once, acknowledging Thomas's touch before Thomas had to withdraw his hand. Thomas wished the others weren't watching. He wanted to litter little touches like that all over Newt, reassure them both that he was safe.

But now wasn't the time.

Newt turned back to the Gathering, sitting so far forward that just the edge of his butt rested on the mattress.


	17. Serious?

_**(A/N):** Hey guys! I know it's been a while since this Collection got my attention! (Yeek. Sorry!) I've recently fallen into the rabbitholes of several new fandoms, and It's been insane and awesome. Also in my **"real life"** I've been working a lot of Overtime and doing Nightshifts and such as well as a family holiday and the Star Wars Convention in London so ooft, life's been hectic. Also anybody who has yet to see the new Star Trek movies MUST do so because ohBOY. And also Zootopia, if you're looking for a great all-rounder family-friendly buddy-cop movie about besting inequality and great bad puns and friendship and being the best you you can be. With the most detailed animated animals. (Can you tell I love it?)_  
 _Anywho!_  
 _Our poor heroes will soon be leaving to battle the Scorch, and is this a Jealous Newt moment I see?_  
 _Happy reading!_

* * *

Newt is perhaps a tad jealous when Aris and Thomas share a long look. Chapter 6.

* * *

"And could you …," Thomas began, but hesitated. He felt like every time he brought this up, he was admitting to the world that he was crazy. "Could you speak to one of those girls inside your mind? Ya know, like telepathically?"

Aris's eyes widened, staring deeply at Thomas as if he'd understood a dark secret that only someone else who shared it could understand.

 _Can you hear me?_

The phrase appeared so clearly inside Thomas's mind that at first he thought Aris had spoken aloud.

But no—his lips hadn't moved.

 _Can you hear me?_ the boy repeated.

Thomas hesitated, swallowed. _Yes._

 _They killed her_ , Aris said back to him. _They killed my best friend._

"What's going on?" Newt asked, looking back and forth between Thomas and Aris. "Why're you guys looking at each other like you just fell in love?"

"He can do it, too," Thomas answered, not taking his eyes off the new kid and completely missing the expression on Newt's face, seeing the others only in his peripheral vision. That final statement by Aris had terrified him; if they'd killed _his_ telepathy partner …

"Do what?" Frypan asked.

"What do you think?" Minho said. "He's a freak like Thomas. They can talk in each other's heads."

Thomas shot Minho a glare, feeling hurt and a little ashamed, only to find that Newt was glaring at Thomas. It was only then that the brunette realised just how Newt's expression had darkened.

"Serious?"

Newt looked a mixture of irritated and almost _sad_ , his hands fisted in the material of his trouser legs, gripping his knees. Thomas met his eyes and looked at him _properly_ , and it made an odd and uncomfortable swooping feeling wreak havoc on his insides. Newt didn't look happy about this new revelation, even _less_ so than he had when he'd first discovered Thomas could speak with Teresa in his head. Was it… It surely wasn't _Jealousy_?

For a split second Thomas wondered whether Newt wished…

Did he wish it was _him_ that Thomas could confer with? And suddenly the younger boy was consumed by the thought. Having _Newt_ in his head whenever he pleased… Being able to check the indecipherable blonde was okay when he went off on his own in one of his quiet moods. Being able to tell him the awkward things he sometimes wanted to, without the encumbering minefield of finding his voice.

For a very long moment they simply stared at each other. Newt's eyes were liquid amber and filled with twisting, changing feelings. Thomas felt his fingers itch to reach out, the short distance between them suddenly too much.

When Minho finally cleared his throat Thomas nodded to Newt's question and almost spoke to Aris in his mind again, saying it out loud at the last second. He didn't want to give Newt any more reason to wear that expression than he could help. His eyes did wander back to the green-eyed Aris though. He tried not to wonder about the sound of Newt shifting. Thomas could see from the corner of his eye the way the blonde had crossed his arms across his chest.

It took a lot of effort to return his attention to the conversation, fear for Teresa reappearing and mingling uncomfortably with the way his heart was thumping. He wished the others were gone so that he could tell Newt… Aris and Rachel. Rachel.

They killed her. _They_.

"Who killed her? What happened?"

Thomas heard Newt's breath hitch in surprise and avoided the urge to look at him. Newt was alright, he was right there. He was safe for the moment, and that was all that mattered.

"Who killed who?" Minho said. "No more of your voodoo klunk while we're around."

Thomas, eyes watering now, finally broke his gaze with Aris and looked over at Minho. "He had someone he could do this with, just like I did. I mean … _do_. But he said they killed her. I want to know who _they_ are."

Aris's head had dropped; his eyes looked closed from where Thomas sat.

"I don't really know who _they_ are. It's too confusing. I couldn't tell the bad guys from the good guys. But I think somehow they made this girl Beth … stab … my friend. Her name was Rachel. She's dead, man. She's dead."

He covered his face with both hands.

Thomas felt an almost painful prick of confusion. Everything pointed to Aris's having come from another version of the Maze, set up in the same format except with the ratio of girls to boys being switched. But that would make Aris their version of Teresa. And this Beth sounded like their version of Gally, who'd killed Chuck. With a knife. Did that mean that Gally was supposed to have killed Thomas instead?

But why was Aris here now? And where was Teresa? Things that had almost started to click in his mind fell apart again.

"Well, how'd you end up with us?" Newt asked, and Thomas wondered if he was the only one who could hear the scathing edge in the blonde's tone.

When he turned to look at him, Newt's deep eyes were steadfastly ignoring him, fixed coldly on the new kid. Thomas opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. Minho knocked his ribs with one sharp elbow and Thomas looked away. Minho was lounging in that annoyingly cavalier way of his, with his thick arms crossing his chest and his head cocked to one side as his dark blue eyes studied the newest face in their midst.

Thomas winced as Newt continued, each word sharp. Thomas thought he'd rather face Minho's knives than Newt's word when the older boy was so irked.

"Where are all these buggin' girls you keep talking about? How many of them escaped with you? Did they bring all of you shuck-faces here or just you?"

Thomas couldn't help but feel sorry for Aris. To get grilled with all these questions after something like that had happened. If the roles were switched, if Thomas had seen Teresa get killed, or god-forbid _Newt..._ His stomach wrenched at the thought. Watching it happen to Chuck had been bad enough.

 _Bad enough?_ he thought. _Or was seeing Chuck die worse?_ Thomas wanted to scream. At that moment, everything in the world just _sucked_.

Aris looked up finally, wiped a couple of tears from his cheeks. He did it without the slightest hint of shame, and Thomas suddenly knew that he liked this kid.


End file.
